Kate's walls
by arsimckhoi
Summary: Her mother's death is only half the story. Find out the whole reason she became a detective. Also the whole reason why she feels broken. Kate and Rick finally put everything out in the open.
1. Chapter 1

***ROOOOAAAARRRR. I AM THE GREAT MARLOWE!* (note the sarcasm) ok no... i was thinking about random stuff after my baseball team lost and i realized that I sympathize with Beckett more than Castle. why? well maybe my wife + writers block on my book + plus not taking my medication (depression only, i'm not crazy people, just sad) and i felt... i dunno connected to something she might have gone through...**

"Castle, do you have a second can we talk?"

He blurted something about something and dinner.

"Wow, four dates in three days!"

"Yeah! Why?" He wanted her so bad now. He puffed his chest and braced for to tell the truth.

"Eh, she just... just doesn't seem like you're type."

It was true. Yet...

"Well she's fun and... uncomplicated. Think that's what my life needs right now." He flashed that killer grin but it wasn't sincere. It was a facial middle finger to her. She scowled the whole time he was going away from her.

Yes, she picked her phone and it was reflexive to her. The number at the top of her call screen was Mr. Scotlandyard himself. She buried her blush before it happened and inhaled to push it deeper in her center. Her stomach was a wreck and she knew she couldn't handle food. She put the phone back away and as she stood up she caught Castle glaring at her.

She had a few more words to say and she was going let flusies, bimbo's, hussies or fake tramps distract him anymore. She grabbed her coat and headed down the stairwell.

_That sonofabitch isn't getting away._

Clomping speedily down the steps she knew she had catching up to do. About the second floor down she had the sense she was already way to late. She took out her phone and speed dialed 2. She heard the ring. Nothing happened though. Racing down the steps she felt a snag on her heels and she tumbled head over heels down the next flight. Gasping for air she soon realized he was getting away. The bruises would fade. Her heartache would be there forever.

_Fuck this._

She began texting: **Hlp. Fell down a flight of stairs 5 floor. Pls call.**

She laid the phone down. Lying on her back stairing up at the bottom of the 6th floor she exhaled a breath of resignation. This would be her fate. A cold, hollow existence. She wasted time telling him how she felt. So like anyone that has regrets she imagined telling him. How could she meet anyone else that was like him? He would talk to her because he wanted to know what she thought. Not just to make conversation between sex. He respected her. Like seriously respected her. Like _listened_ and never tried to solve her problems unless she cued him to help find one.

Then she realized that because he respected her there was never an honest chance, yes there was innuendo and flashes but they never had a chance.

She also realized it was all her fault. She knew everything. How he felt about her and what he wanted.

She rolled to her side and moaned a desperate groan. Castle would love the metaphor of the situation. Strong woman laying crippled by her heel on the cold stairwell floor. He would probably change some details to make more symbolic. Maybe give her a heart attack. Broken heart would fit perfectly.

She wanted to cry. She wanted to let it all out. All of the tension and flirting and great memories and bad memories and... just... everything. Her mom being murdered and her dad emotionally abadoning her and leaving her to try and find her way. Her guilt for all the shitty things she did to other people while she tried to numb the pain of her hurt. The drinking. The drugs. The nice boys she took advantage of. The bad boys she let abuse her. All of this is why she felt so broken. Good people don't do these things, she use to reflect in her younger years this very thought quite often so she, in essence, had programmed her cognitive facilities to accept this. Something always nagged at her though. Hindsight being what it is, it was mostly likely her subconscious repeating messages her parents had said to her about giving people second chances and forgiveness and all the gibberish and nonsense she would feel creep up in her head.

She _had _a good upbringing. Loving parents, bright future and then her mother died. Literally. Then her father died. Emotionally and in a bottle. Then she tried to die but something wouldn't let her. Something, for the lack of a better word, good was keeping her alive.

She wanted to cry so badly. Then she remembered why she decided to never cry again...

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"Bitch where's my motha fuckin' money!" Her pimp hit her really hard this time. He stopped being her boyfriend a while back. Like when he shot her up with heroine. It was a glorious high. Like sex with God's face. She didn't appreciate being raped while she was out of her mind and she sure as fuck didn't like her realization when he blew his load in her ass that she had come undone. Getting raped then having the shit kicked out of you when you're an alleyway junky high (she wasn't the junky yet but she was close) has a way of really settling in your reptilian brain. He was so nice in the beginning. Wanting to party and share everything with her. He seemed like she was exactly what she needed to just plain stop feeling all the bad things. All the synapse in her brain that linked to sadness seemed to reroute around him. Of course, it was most likely the drugs.

She decided that putting herself out there that way to pay him back was wrong. She wanted to talk to him. Maybe go to night school and a job...Then he hit her. Started to scream things about money. Put drugs in her and then raped her. This is what she had done to herself. Her pain from mommy and daddy disappearing on her... all of that love and goodness was gone... all of the sinful, gashing, abysmal attempts to fill that need in her developing emotional, physical and psycological body was being filled with trash.

She was high as a kite flying another kite. She had suffered a fate worse than death by this monster of a man lurching over her screaming like a firey dragon about something as petty as cash and she could only see red. Hear the word _fight_ and as his hand came down she raised her arm to block and his blow hit her arm but nothing else. All that was in her sight was gaping maw of an opening from his pectoral muscles to his knees and she lauched herself into his torso with all of her might and heard a grunt to suggest something had changed in him. And her. Some how she just knew the air was knocked out of him and he was losing his balance. She grabbed the back of the legs. The same back of the legs she grabbed to pull his cock down her mouth and gag her to his delight. Then her world felt right as he went down and she was on top. _She was on top._ The only thing she could think to do was obliterate his face. That handsome, rugged face that penetrated her infantile defenses.

There was nothing left of her innocence. She was going to kill this fucker.

He had seen some MMA for sure as he rocked his body to try and throw her off balance and regain the upper hand but she was willing to sacrifice her body. She gave enough on his sway to allow herself to remain on top and let her knees scrape on the glass and the gravel and filth and muck...

Then she saw a brick.


	2. Chapter 2

She grabbed it and brought down like Thor's justice on the metaphor of her attempt to escape. She was worth more than a crack whore. Way more. Tons more. Shit crap tons more on a holy cross more. She pummeled his head with the brick blow after blow after furious blow. She wasn't just stopping the fight. She was killing him. She was killing the abstract. She was bludgening her lies and the times she was lied to. She was killing her life.

The cracking on his skull stopped and after a few more blows she was just pounding mush. His body had stopped seizing and there was no opening left on his face that could inhale air to breath.

Then she froze. Her brain seemed to shut down. What could one do when you single handedly create the most physically traumatizing moment in your own life? Her mom was gone. Her father a shell. Now she was broken. What would her mother think of her now? Daddy's girl was a psychopath. She couldn't feel... anything.

When the police arrived they saw her still straddling him with the bloody brick in her hand and when she heard the words to "Drop it" she began shaking and she wanted to break down. She tried to cry. She felt like she needed to show the badges behind her that she was still there. That she was the victim but she was done with all of that. She wasn't the victim anymore. She had killed the maggot of a person between her legs. If no one was going to be there for her when she needed them then she sure as hell better protect herself from being hurt like this again. No one was going to ever hurt her again in anyway.

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By the time "evidence" had been collected from her body – semen, blood and photo's of needle marks and plastic bags with syringe all placed in a box – she had become fascinated with the process. The questions and how the police and doctors all worked together. She had too. If she focused on how she felt there wasn't going to be any hope of her side being told. She had to focus on what the evidence was telling them. She had been drugged, raped and beaten and she retaliated in self defense. The NYPD was more than sympathetic and she had done them a real favor. Her almost pimp was trafficking drugs, minors and even had a connection with a small terrorist group for moving weapons. They had decided to let her go, miraculously enough, after several hours and a lawyer swooped in. They really didn't want to have to charge her. It was in self defense and honestly the overweight, white tired and old cops interrogating her were corrupt. She had knocked off a competitor to one of their own sources of under the table income. So with five words "You are free to go" she became something else.

She left the building but the process, evidence gathering and stereotypical bad police work stayed with her.

She did go home. It wasn't really a home anymore though. More just a place she could sleep that her dad drank at. She sat on the couch.

Turned on the tv.

Law and Order was on. She watched it. Not a great episode but she was able to figure out who was responsible before the characters did.

She flipped the channels and saw a trailer for a mystery movie. It gave away too much in typical Hollywood fashion and she already knew who the killer was.

An old Sherlock Holmes episode was on. It was shot in the 70's and set in Britain. Not the Robert Downey Jr version. The unmanic interpretation. She watched how he moved and redialed his attention to something no one else saw. She liked it. _I could do that._ She thought. The nothingness inside her quieted. She felt a little bit. She didn't know what it was. It certainly wasn't joy. It wasn't hate either. She felt intrigued.

She grew bored watching watered down variations of the same who-done-it over and over again and turned the tv off.

How would I do if I was a detective?

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The concrete she laid on wasn't cold anymore and she heard Castle's voice.

"Beckett!"

She gasped for air. She was still alive. He came back to her.

"Castle! I'm here!"

"Where?"

"I'm on...", she spotted the black 5 on the wall. "I'm on the fifth floor."

She heard his feet stomping and launching his body over the steps.

She was hoping he looked like a character in a romantic comedy racing to his lover to profess his feelings but what she got was Castle panting and panicy.

"Are you..." he leaned over to catch his breath, "...okay?" Not the kind of breathing heavy she wanted from him but it was enough for her log that in her memory for later.

"I think I broke my ankle." It did hurt and she didn't know if she did but the real pain was in her feelings now.

He went to her but his expression changed. "Ankle? You're text-"

She was hanging on his next words. "You're text said you fell down five flights of stairs." She couldn't quite get what he was getting at. "That's why I came back. Because..."

"Castle it was a typo obviously and can you help me get up. I need to get to a hospital."


	3. Chapter 3

"What are you doing?"

"I'm picking you up." He kneeled down and scooped her up and the part of her that was looking for him to return to his old self saw this. The rest of her though was defiant.

"I can walk thank you."

"Shutup Beckett."

"Put me down."

He was just as defiant. "Beckett if you don't shutup and let me carry you to your desk I promise I'll drop you right here."

She knew she had made him angry. He was pulling away from her and she didn't know what she had done but she did know she didn't want him to go further. She pulled herself close to him in his arms as he carried her up the two flights of stairs. She laid her head on the crevice of his shoulder and chest and couldn't help but think it was the perfect place for her head to lay down after sex.

His body was warm and he was breathing heavy as he reached the top of the first flight and he pivoted his body to go around the bend.

She felt the whirling sensation for microseconds but it was enough to hope he would kiss her. The butterflies were growing into hawks doing lazy circle shaped flight patterns in the sky. The tension growing like it should. Intimacy and partnership are never things to take for granted. True love is like simmering coals and not a flame. You have to keep fueling the fire at an even, steady rate. At first she wanted nothing to do with him because _how could the author live up to the hype of the books he writes?_

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When her eyelids gently started to flap open in her bed she was struck with the reality of feeling what she had done. She was drugged, raped and beaten three days before but she hadn't said a single word to her dad. It was hospital, police, forensics and more police for three straight days. When she arrived home her own father wasn't there to say "How ya'been?" but the influx of _Mystery Monday_ on the tv was a wave of comfort. It was an obscure channel her father had forgotten to cancel after it was free and it played any and everything all mystery on Monday's and she caught it during sweeps week. She could read the title and figure out who had committed the crime everytime. What's better than that? She had stumbled on a marathon. It was playing all week. Crime after crime flashed across her eyes and she solved them time after time by noticing things the writers had to put in to keep the watchers watching. A gesture. A directorial cue that he gave to the actors or the lighting or way something was said. The lack of contractions in a speech pattern. The way eyes moved when an actor was speaking. She tracked and followed the subtleties mentally and each time she was right about a case being solved she wanted to know more and more... _How would I do as a real detective?_

It was more like a pull then her pushing. It was easy for her to disect all the details and evidence. It was always about the evidence in these shows. Point A would lead to name, which would lead to Point B which would lead to motive, which would lead to Point C add an "Oh it was the butler" and roll credits. Writers had 45 minutes of time and 15 minutes of commercials. It all became boring and she soon turned to books. She could study word patterns by the authors and characters that way. If she felt she got good she decided she would enroll in the academy. She started with Arthur C. Doyle and admired Holmes' slightly odd nature. Agatha Christie was more interesting to her because the detective had such a good memory. For a break in those first few weeks she'd devour a romance novel off the discount rack. She rarely finished them but on occosion she'd get one that would grab her.

Then one day on her break from mystery novels and crime shows, she'd become obsessed with feeding her brain any and all sources of things criminal, she came across a book by Richard Castle...

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He plopped her into her chair at her desk and got his phone out.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

"I'm telling my date I was inconvenienced and that I'll be there short-"

"No. What are you _doing_?"

The emphasis didn't make much sense. He looked behind himself to make sure she was talking to him. "I'm calling my date to tell her-"

"No Castle! What are you doing _with her?_" Her voice was louder. Much louder. Ryan had entered and when she had spoken up he stopped like a deer in the headlights and had hoped he wouldn't be seen. Castle had seen him though and matched his line of sight. Fortunately Castle spoke first.

"Ryan can you get some ice? I think she sprained her ankle."

"Don't avoid the question!" He heard the clicking sound followed by a sharp slap on his wrist and as he moved to look back at the direction of the sound, towards her, he felt his body motion stop with a metallic clang. She handcuffed him to her desk.

The immediate thought in his mind was of when she said "Next time let's do it without the tiger" but this probably wasn't what he had in mind.

Their eyes met and as much as he wanted to punch her for not letting him walk away, he felt a rush of victory. He had her attention. Although not the best kind.

Ryan had come back with an ice bag and saw the handcuffs linking Castle to the desk. Saw the facedown. Their eyes staring each other right into the pupils and trying to grind the ugly, glorious, awful and sexy truth from their brains. Ryan spoke up, "Ice bag?"


	4. Chapter 4

Although Ryan had said "Ice bag?" their was only an awkward, hot tension between them.

While she said "No." He had said, "Yes", leaving Ryan completely motionless. He knew she was hurt. He knew he was being..._difficult?_... yet he knew what was going on. He wanted to help in some way so he decided to place the bag of ice on her desk. Then he slowly backed away. The two were still locked in a stare down. There had been interruptions in the past but right now there was to be absolutely no intrusions on the two strongest personalities in the precinct. If it was tv there would a commercial break. If it was a movie there'd be a 'To be continued...'. If it was a soap opera there would be an extremely long high note playing from a pipe organ from out of nowhere. If it was an action film there would be a completely unnecessary camera sweep that would draw us to the attention of their eyes locked in. If it was an space cowboy show there'd be a robotic sagebrush rolling across the floor that was programmed to emit the sound of western showdown whistle. This was real though.

Ryan heard steps behind him and spread his arms wide as he retreated. He felt five distinct bodies touch his back, shoulders, elbows and arms. It always seemed _**the moment**_ was about to go down they were interrupted. Ryan, being the only married one within a stone's throw, had picked up on the vibe much earlier and added to the _She-to-he _ pot that was growing to a three-water-cooler-plastic container bounty, filled with pennies and nickels and paper was estimated at $5,000, to the _He-to-she _pot, well above her amount. Everyone that had placed bets all thought they would have done this before but Ryan knew better. Beckett would break first. When she went from stone cold to, not necessarily fluffy, but less robotic and maybe soft_er_ (again, not soft, just softer) he realized that Castle was getting to her more than she was getting to him.

Behind Ryan's retreating expansion stood two street cops, Gates, Esposito and Alexis (coming up for "air " and food, or rather, to ask her Dad if he wanted to take her out for food to talk about why he'd become such a complete ass). He went from detective to fly on the wall. The five, scratch that (counting himself), six bodies staring at the couple, Castle being handcuffed to the desk, and her in attack mode, all knew that it was either now or never. Worst case scenario? It was a crime scene in the making. Best case scenario? They would just plain say it and the crowd gathering around would all cheer. Oh yeah. A crowd was starting to form. The bodies of homicide cops in the distance began to gather when those six were motionless staring at the same thing.

EVERYONE knew. The whole floor knew and the city knew. It was on twitter and the fan pages and every theory and argument was wrong. He wasn't a playboy anymore. She wasn't a shrewd or something to be studied anymore. He was a locksmith grinding away at her keypad with an algorithm and she was a harpy dangling the keycard out of his reach.

"Answer the question!" Beckett shouted. A shout with a hint of growl and venom. Rick's brain replayed a question he had asked his mother several weeks earlier. _Are you willing to apologize to someone who really doesn't deserve it?_ He gritted his teeth his mind growing claws and biceps flexing wanting to hurt her body. How _dare_ she be so beautiful and perfect for him. Who was she to challenge his debonair and charm? He was happy running around and signing boobs before he met her. Then he signed his life away to follow her. New York couldn't be sued if he was hurt or killed. Then his muse couldn't be with him because he had to go to the Hamptons. Then she was shot. Then she...she was a liar. She knew the whole time how he felt. She knew and did nothing. "Those that know and do nothing sit in the hottest places of hell" he thought. He didn't know where she was coming from. Was she jealous? Was she in pain from her ankle? Was she menstrating? Hell, did she honestly hate him and want him to suffer? He looked down and away from her eyes. He knew she could read him better than anyone else. He knew, she knew he was hurt. He didn't like the idea of her being in hell and breathed deeply. He relaxed and what had been wanting to say for years finally followed the logical path it should.

"I'm not doing a single thing with her because she's a cheap, self centered, _girl_ that wants only the physical and manipulative things that I can provide." He closed his eyes, paused and looked directly at her. He matched the detective's eyeline and focused on the blackest part of her pupil. Kissing, sex and marriage wasn't enough for him anymore with her. He wanted an apology so he could tell her about the murder board he had in his writing room. Tell her about the dark encounters with the his contact regarding the conspiracy of her mother. He wanted to tell her everything. "Kate I can provide so much but I can't do this. With you."

The gathering crowd on the floor was motionless and the ring of New York's finest circled the pair of troubled lovers. Yes they loved each other but isn't love gone unnoticed like a poem unread? It's uselss.

Kate Beckett slammed her fist down on her desk. "You doing this with me!" Her heart and body felt electrified. It was an adrenaline surge that a scientist would call fight or flight. This was definitely a fight. "You are not leaving! You are not leaving this building with someone who isn't me!" Her face flushed and the heat exploded in her cheeks. She really was shouting really loud and was extremely angry. He wanted to leave her hobbled and in an emotional train wreck. He was not a monster but he feared she would strike him.

She continued, "You can't tell me you love me then bring stupid slutty whore's from airplanes from you're quote "awesome" trip from Vegas and flaunt them around like I don't care."

Castle grinned. He had her where he wanted her. "So you don't like being put on the back burner?"

She exploded "I'm not a piece of meat! I won't be burned by your stupid alliterations and play on words!"

She had confessed in his mind. This was going to be the moment of his life if she followed the script he thought would follow. He leaned into her, no longer afraid. "I'm sorry that I've moved on but Beckett... You don't get to use you're mother's death as an excuse any more. You don't get to use that excuse."

If her brain had bells they'd be clanging for the next hundred years. _You don't get to use that excuse_ was the trigger in the gun that sparked the powder keg that was this moment. The slowly encircling cops of the 12th didn't know what was going but at the same time they all knew what was going on.

She now knew that he knew what she knew. Yeah. He was about to know she knew he knew he now know's.

**Thank you for following but seriously? This is it folks! This the showdown! Everything happens. Feelings are cut out and the wants are revealed and I only get one review? Okay I get it. Smut will happen but the tension needs to be made harmonious. Consider the next chapter a bloodletting then. They'll really go into each other and Castle ****will**** tell her about the murder board. They ****will**** realize. They will kiss. They will leave. Review how you think it'll go down. I believe we can do better than what Marlowe is putting us all through.**


	5. Chapter 5

"You heard me." She muttered. Her shoulders slumped and her jaw slightly down in shock. "You heard me and then you..." It was clear to her what had happened but her mouth couldn't compute what her brain was scanning, racing and tried to forget of that interrogation. She had to say what she did to cut through the suspects lies but if she had known Rick would be there then she would never have said it. They wouldn't have found the culprit. The anchorwoman serving time wouldn't have even been brought up. She had to say what she did to get justice. To do justice to what her mother was trying to do.

Her mother. It wasn't an excuse anymore. Her mother was a crusader and loved New York. Johanna believed that if you stared down evil with hope and faith you'd always win. People were good. Life was a blessing and there was a kind and forgiving God that was watching over all of us. Love _always_ conquered over everything. Show compassion and entitlement washes away. Show kindness but carry a katana and criminals show respect and allow you to go places no one else goes. She was killed by someone that was trying to keep the status very quo. Someone who was corrupted by evil. All of the things Johanna Beckett was would disappear if Kate never embraced what life really was about. Kate needed to love. She did love but bringing it out of her was so hard. Saying those words to herself felt like she was petting a porcupine. How much would it hurt to say those to him?

"I heard you and got the message loud and clear." He finished her sentence. "I'm never going to be anything more than a partner to you. Probably a friend but I gotta tell you Kate, I'm getting old and I'm tired of the 'Just friends' rejection. I can make friends. But I sure as hell can't make somebody love me."

She was awe struck at his honesty. He was putting his heart out there. She wanted to tell him but instead – "You're not tryingto make me love you, Rick." His mouth started moving and interrupted her "Not trying? _Not trying!_ Who the hell are you to always be the one that closes up shop everytime something between us happens. We kissed and I think about that everyday of my life. Did you know that?"

She wanted him to stop talking. He was dumping everything on her too fast for her. She thought about that kiss too. She loved him and wanted to tattoo herself on him right then and there but that stupid wall...

"Shut! Up! Stop talking and just..." She put her hands in her hair and wanted to pull her hair out and let the bleeding follicles clot while she screamed how she felt. She was so angry and her feelings were so congested and bottlenecked it was like trying to give birth to an emotional Mercedes Benz.

"No! You're going to hear what I have to say because I'm done with this. I'm done with us. You knew! You knew the whole time Kate and you sat on it! If you were me how would you feel? Huh?"

Ouch. She only felt hurt. She tried to be nice and she tried to not play with his heart or lead him on. He had no idea what he really ment to her. She had to start from the beginning.

"Richard." Her voice was gentle, soft like someone talking to a child prodigy. Like someone who had their two year old take the Mensa test and discovered their spawn was smarter than they are. "You don't have to make me love because I've loved you since I read your first book." There was no pain in saying it. It was more of a muscle that had been flexing for decades suddenly relaxed.

The officers encircled would have collectively gasped had not all the air already been sucked out by the tension black hole in the room.

Castle wanted to retaliate. He wanted her to be the third times a charm. He was so angry with fate and Kate that it didn't seem like it was going to happen he retreated to his idiotic lifestyle. Fast cars, fast women and fast money writing fast books about sex, violence and rock and roll. He wanted to erase the concept of her from his mind. Then she had to go and say that. 'I' then 'love' and 'you'.

It wasn't a knife in the heart or butterflies in the stomach. It was more like a wadded sock in his throat. He couldn't talk. He wanted to hate and forgive her. Is there a word for that?

She started to talk... she didn't tell him about when she was put on the street by a "friend" that ended up being a pimp. She stood up to him and hobbled gently to his ear and whispered "When you told me in the beginning that Nikki Heat was slightly slutty there was a good reason I was angry."

You could hear a pin drop definitely but even more so you could feel two hearts colliding.

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She devoured the book. She wasn't a speed reader but when she started she didn't stop. When Derek Storm walked away into the sunset with bad guy dead and a phone number to call that girl was not good enough for him she immediately wanted to talk to the writer. Who could be good enough for his imagination? What inspired him to write something that would rend her defenses asunder? How could he describe intelligence gathering and sex so accurately that it had to be true? Who or what was this man?

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Richard Castle exhaled. The truth was overwhelming. The truth. The reason Katherine Beckett had walls was because she needed too. She had too. If she didn't then what happened to her would have devastated her. Her life would have been a stream of psychologists and medications while she forget the guilt and pain by cutting herself or abusive relationship after abusive relationship. She had walls because not having them would hurt more.

She told him about the parties and drugs. The people she stepped on and hole she wanted to fill with anything to get her misery to go away. All inches from his ear in a low whisper.

The wide ring of cops in the back began asking what was happening and they were all given a shush. They wanted to know what was happening. Ryan gave them an evil look. It was getting harder to go unnoticed.

"That's why I can't be with you." Was the only thing they all heard. She continued "You changed my life before I met you and I'm not near good enough for what you deserve. You deserve someone isn't so..."

She wanted to tear her hair out again. "So... _me!_"

She sat down and it was clear to him what he had to say. What he had to do next.

**Oh man I just going on a 4 week vacation with no electronics so you all just go ahead and have fun sitting on that... Bye!**

** Okay I'm not but can you imagine? Look in the world of fanfiction views and reviews are the currency to keep us going. Since I'm writing this as I am stepping away from a book that i'm writing and actually am close to getting published it always helps me to know that 1.) people still read and 2.) i've written something that people actually like (always rewarding)**

**so please leave encouragement or send the story to someone else... this story is going to be waaaay better than my first story for sure.**


	6. Chapter 6

"What do you think I deserve?" He snickered at her statement.

"Someone that will stand up and by you. Someone that's going to appreciate and challenge you. Someone that knows how damn annoying you are but still wants to be with you. Someone..."

"Like you?" He was trying to get her to admit in her own twisted logic that she was trying to say more than I love you. He had told her always. He'd always be there for her. Her partner and friend and he would never stop loving her. That she was the thing in his life he'd been searching for. Calling her a muse does cheapen what she is to him but what's a better word? He knew she was it. The soulmate. The one he could wake up next to old, fat and grey and his heart would still pound a little faster.

She wanted to say "Yes" but the muscle that had relaxed after she said those three words contracted. She felt she was suffocating and drowning in a vat of her own guilt. That part of her that told her she wasn't good enough for someone that loved so easily. Loved his daughter and mother, even though Martha was … shall we say... free? With her self to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh. She was an actress and very good at it. She was a teacher of great actors too. Martha would never take away from her son's achievements and was a constant source of encouragement. Castle knew she was talented and Martha knew he was talented. There was a respect there. Then there was Alexis. Alexis was brilliant. Righteous and brilliant. A beam of hope in his life since he was so careless with his heart earlier. He was careless. He had been cheated on and beat up emotionally. Why then was he so willing to put it all on the line for her when she was such a bastard child of the fast life style he portrayed so easily to the public? She had been fast, reckless and calloused. Kate Beckett **was** the epitomy of carefree mistake after mistake but this man. This one man that wrote words for a living that scraped the very heart of her feelings.

She felt like she was a basket case. She wanted him. She needed and craved him and he said he loved her. Granted there was lead in her chest and she was dying but … hey... deathbed confessions had their place right? She was such a screwup she couldn't even die right. _Ha!_ She thought.

"Castle. I don't... I just don't..."

"Kate you handcuffed me here so I wouldn't leave you. Do you remember the kiss? Do you remember the time I made you pancakes? Do you remember cases we've solved? Do you remember anything we've been through? Do you remember the scholarship fund we set up? Do you remember the kiss?"

Her heart felt mushy and like a pile of composte. She needed him to heal her. Her mother was in heaven and her father on earth. Her past was in hell and she didn't know where she rightfully belonged. Does not what we do carve the path of present and our decisions of our minds lay the groundwork or our future? Would her walls stop her soulmate from coming in and embracing her full self. Dunham never tried. Doctor motorcycle boy never came close. Richard Castle was the seed that was planted years ago before she became detective. He was here bleeding his emotions in front of her and he loved her but she needed to know one thing...

"You said always."

"And I'll say it everyday." He fired back without hesitation.

"Then tell the dumb blonde that's calling you to take a hike."

He hadn't noticed that his phone was going off constantly since she had handcuffed him to the desk. It was the same ringtone too. It was Beyonce's 'All the single ladies' and Beckett hated that song. Being a strong single woman doesn't mean you should be that just so some guy would put a ring on you're finger. She did like Beyonce's talent but she hated the message she sent. Pay my bills or I'll throw your bags full of your clothes to the curb. If I've been with you and you haven't proposed I need something material to show you want me. Love shouldn't work that way but it does despite what Kate wanted. She needed him to be that 'perfect' for her because she always felt, despite her status as "muse", so incredibly flawed and full of sin. He'd been divorced twice and who was she to think she could heal him when she was, for lack of a better term, a hooker.

He wasn't a playboy. He played that role like any man would to sell his books and be read. If you could provide an unbelievable life for your loved one's wouldn't you dabble in the extravagent? He signed boobs. He flirted with beautiful women. He didn't mind the rumor he was an incredible lover. (What guy wouldn't?) He was something that became a metaphor. His social networking advisor screamed he was sex, drugs and party all the time. Granted his "Advisor" was some kid in North Dakota that had internet access and had read all of his books. Legally or illegaly. This kid was helping him make money. So he sent him some money. He was paying a 15 year old about $20,000/ year to do nothing but follow any and all rumors on his twitter site. Sweet deal. Since any rumor lead to youtube and any social networking sites. He made thousands everyday playing Angry Birds and losing to punk kids around the world. He wrote a dozen books and was set for life.

Being set for life wasn't enough for him. He needed to be settled for life and he prayed and hoped _she_ would give it to him.

He answered the phone. "Hello?"

It wasn't who he thought. Instead he he heard Alexis' voice. "Um, Dad?" Then he looked around and saw the crowd gawking at him. Them actually. A hand waving caught his eyes and lead to his daughter making her way through the crowd. She covered her mouth and whispered into the cellphone "You might wanna take this to a more private place."

His entire being became cogniscent of the situation. All eyes on deck and unblinking at both of them. He hung up and leaned into Beckett. She must have thought he was going to kiss her because her breathing stopped and her eyes went from trapped in fear to relaxing with want. Then he said something that made her blood want to explode from her cheeks.

"I think we should go to a quieter place."

She stood up and the pain of her sprained ankle (no it wasn't broken after all) made her collapse for a moment. He caught her in his arms and she heard the gasping from her colleagues. She hadn't realized that they'd been the main attraction. Attraction being the best word possible for this whole scenario. Castle eased her back up and grabbed the ice bag. Kate put her arm around his shoulder and unlocked him from the handcuffs and they he guided them into _their _interrogation room.

This... probably could have been a big mistake.

**I know some of you will get me for this since I pretty much am making a simple thing like a kiss seem so unattainable but believe me that when I say I have something planned for the ****deliciously smutty parts. It'll be like a tasmanian trying to bang a honey badger in field of seeding dandelions. Smells and noises and white stuff flying every where. Hahahahhaha!**


	7. Chapter 7

The door closed behind them and he pulled out a chair for her to sit on. She sat. He lifted her swollen ankle onto the table. Applied ice and sat down the opposite side of her.

The cooling sensation on her limb provided a chance for her to catch her breath and when she did that she had come to realize what she had said to him. _Oh god what does he think of me now!_ Beckett tried hard to not be a stereotypical western civilization woman that abuses herself to get a man's attention. She wanted to project herself as strong and she did very well because, quite honestly, she was so it was hard for her try and feel those more gentle emotions like trust. Openness and honesty. Happiness and Love. She felt them more easily when he was around because it was such an approved of reaction. Plus there was never an awkward moment when she did open up. He always embraced her feelings with such a zest and happiness. Like she was a video game that was rewarding her user with a new level or costume or weapon to slay whatever enemy in the "game" he was playing. Truth be told though it stopped being a game a long time ago and as Kate welcomed the childish nature and appreciated his maturing before her eyes as well.

His family did too. He went from hating an ex-wife/publisher, author that loved being so in the limelight. To a father and son. He actually talked to Alexis. He actually listened and wanted to support his mother and her endeavors. He still did signings and had negotiated to do less touring but he had stopped the boob signing and the sunglass wearing persona. He was an author than a celebrity. His work improved and his signings and appearances wore more humbled. His interviews were protective of personal things like his family, his social behaviors, his … well _of her_. He spoke highly of her. He spoke highly of how supportive his family was. Several times he even spent days trying to develop a character out of Alexis because she constantly made him proud. Who wouldn't want to know about a beautiful, charming, genius level girl? His book would be the literary equivalent of Amelia meets Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. That was something he had played with but he had business with Kate to resolve and only one more book to write.

The silence in the room was broken when he spoke. "How's your ankle?"

She exhaled because it was all she could do to lessen the swelling of her heart because he seemed concerned about her. "Better."

There was an even longer pause. They exchanged breaths and finally Richard Castle, the wordsmith, the master of verbage, the epitomy of exceptional tongue manipulation said... "I ment what I said."

_Damnit! Damnit! Damnit! _ She hated his honesty now. She wanted the fake, smile, wink and nod exchange they used to go by. The flirtation. The ennuendo. She wanted the tension because if it became more she was going to have to tell him everything. She put her righthand to her forehead and she felt the palm of hand she also sensed herself rushing into the actualization of now so she ran her fingers through her hair to comfort herself. She emotionally embraced herself for where this was going.

"I … believe... you..." she inhaled. In one mighty breath she said: "I love you too but I need you to stop." It was a sledgehammer to his emotional gut. "I need you to stop because if something were to every happen to you..." She paused and the tears rolled down her face. She loved him. It was an emotional blessing for her to have him come into his life. Every time he was near she could relax and it really seemed to help her figure out cases and most aspects of her life. He was more emotionally supportive of her than an psychologist she'd met when she was dealing with her mother's death. He was like a pain sponge.

Whenever she winced and he was near it seemd her agony was lessoned. Maybe because he stood closer than a normal partner should. Maybe it was because he, himself, was trying to unburden himself of his own emotional pain. How could two failed marriages lead to this incredible life he had?

He had so much. She chose to have so little so she could prove herself worthy. He chose to swing for the fences of life and she wanted to lay down bunts and run like hell. He was the Titanic, destined to doom but grandiose in nature. She was the old man and the sea. Small and determined. She could and would conquer everything but could never remove her sadness. He was a sinking ship no matter what did.

The metaphors where endless. The point was the same. She made him and he made her better. Stronger. They both had open wounds and the other... well maybe they were jigsaw pieces. They both fit into each others lives perfectly. But there was that sense that it's puzzle so _how could it be that easy?_

"Castle." She continued. "If you don't stop you won't be the first partner I fell in love with that died."

She lowered her head and the tears really fell. She didn't want to lose her muse. Yeah. He had inspired her. In waaaayyy more ways than one...

**Awwwwww yeah. Kate was all in with an earlier parnter. Drive you mad yet? Explain anyting yet? Your minds will = blown by the time i'm done. If you appreciate then comment or a bomb will go off and kill everyone in the building... I'll do it! I'm not scared!**

** Okay... I won't but still this just might go 30 chapters and have multiple smut scenes. Oh and take up hours of my time. Please stroke my emotional ego with reviews. If you've gotten this far it's a requirement. No? Well it should be... hahahhaha**

** I love my followers and I love my reviews but damnit if Marlowe doesn't get these two together by the end of season 5 I swear I will say they've "Jumped the shark" or "moonlighting curse" or whatever... I will be a neigh sayer. Sigh... maybe i'll drink some vodka with xanax and just calm down. I do like the show after all...**


	8. Chapter 8

His name was Marco. He was thickly built in stature, black and confident. His ebony skin had a way of glistening to catch Kate's attention in the right lighting. When he smiled it was gorgeous. Glistening teeth and perfect gums that revealed purely perfectly oral hygien. She wanted to make him smile. When she felt him do something wrong he would flick his tongue out towards her, as if, to implicate he knew she was watching. The casual physical flicking and toying gave way eventually to a more playful, toying and while he was pointing towards her, and as she pulled herself closer to him, there was a tension. _Could they work. _ The constant pushing and pulling. The wanting and yearning. Yes she did "want" him but there was an element missing. He had the passion. The playfulness. She even dressed down... slutty down... to draw his attention from time to time but they were new to the law enforcement and wanted to honor the badge. So how cliché would it be for them to start dating and fighting crime like a comic book?

His face and physical awesomeness flashed in memory section of her brain. She was young again and felt the need she felt when he was near. It was a shallow need. It was not what she needed and when she gazed back up to Richard Caslte and matched his eyes she knew she didn't stand a chance.

"You had another partner?" He asked. It wasn't an 'ask' but more of a whimper. He wanted to be the one for her but after everything she had said in the last 5 seconds he didn't know if she would let him.

The cops in the observation room gasped.

It was true and only Gates knew. Trauma after trauma of the exceedingly young detective and the breaking point that was destined to be reached by the pressures involved. Kate Beckett was the best in the city and Gates' best asset. She never truly had it out for Castle but when she looked over all her detectives and saw Kate's age and human resources file that indicated that there had been a "relationship" with her previous partner before he was gunned down Gates decided that if, playboy millionaire Richard Castle was going to "work" for the NYPD and _with_ Beckett that it needed to be made clear that they could not become anything more than partners. It wasn't a precinct policy but it was something she wanted to keep an eye on and exert some kind of leverage. If they hooked up she would pull the plug.

"His name was Marco and we..." She started. He interrupted, "Marco, huh?" Oh, the onion just keeps peeling more layers.

"Are you teasing me Rick?"

Given the indication that he had been killed Castle realized his tone was slightly inappropriate.

"No. I just... I didn't know."

"No one knows except for Gates."

A pause in the conversation. Beckett lowered her chin and wiped the tears away. Looked up and locked eyes. She didn't follow up the statement because she was hoping her mystery writer would realize why she didn't run into his arms after all this time. If they ever started a relationship they couldn't be together. Not like this. They couldn't work together and be just so good together like they are. She wanted him with her like this. Book or no book. They were catching bad guys and she loved it. She liked her job but with him there she loved it.

A few moments did pass and it did finally occur to him. "So that's why."

"Yes, that's why she doesn't like you."

"She's afraid that if we..." He started but she finished. "Start dating that you'd get killed or I would stop doing my job."

The room felt lighter. This whole time she really did want him. She wanted it all from him but if she opened up she would be betraying so many people. Dead people but people nonetheless.

She broke the silence that was hovering and strangling their souls. "When you told me you'd always be there. It made me the happiest I've been in a _long_ time but I was so mad at you."

Castle felt angry. Not real angry but the kind of angry you feel when you stub your toe on a childs toy. Can't be mad at the kid for playing but you can be mad for being so careless.

"There wasn't anyway I could've known." He protested.

"I know." She acknowledged in a whisper.

The cops in the observation room didn't know either but they did know that Gates took out her phone and immediately dialed the mayor's office.

It was then that Castle stood from his chair and spun around backwards to go to her that the reflective surface of the one way glass caught his eye. He remembered the attention that they'd drawn and he got his own phone out. Went to the glass and mushed his ear to it. Dialed for a number on his phone. He heard a faint ring on the other side. Then he heard Alexis' voice answer, "Just tell her you love her Dad. She loves you and who cares about the work stuff. Just tell her you love her."

The work stuff. Castle had to tell her about the murder board he was tracking at home.


	9. Chapter 9

Ryan and Javier were leaning in and it seemed they were only missing popcorn to watch the show of a lifetime.

Their cover was blown by Castle's call to Alexis though and he went to Kate. He lifted her gently out of the chair into his arms. Her arms draped around him easily. She wasn't about to let go. The observation room saw him nuzzle into her ear. Saw her smile wider than ever before then saw Richard carry her out.

She went to speak into his ear something. It made them both smile. He forced his smile to stop. What he was going to do could be really good or really bad. He had to tell her about the mysterious stranger. The phone calls. The murder board in his writing den. The promise that if he didn't keep an eye on her something bad would happen to her. She needed to know.

He opened the interrogation door and at once the police huddled next to the door trying to hear casually walked away like they weren't trying to eavesdrop on the most interesting thing happening in the building.

He carried her over the threshold.

"Castle, I can walk!"

"No. You can hobble."

"Where you going?"

"_We_ are going to the hospital to check your ankle."

"I thought we were … " She paused. So the talk she wanted to have was over. He carried her over to the elevator and pushed the down button. Was the talk over? He was still carrying her. When conversations are over physical contact usually stops. Maybe it wasn't the talk that was over. Maybe it was just time for them to stop talking.

**I have to admit I'm having a very hard time imagining how his secret comes out. Any ideas? I really want her to try to be mad but she can't. I want him to feel bad but he doesn't regret it. Should they just do it and he whisper everything into her ear after? As she wants space he holds her in his arms? I mean she sprained her ankle is sex really on her mind? What have I done to myself by starting this? Oh damn. How am I going to write myself out of this?**

**I was thinking about what my next story should be. I'm thinking an Alexis-centric love story with Javier. Anyone think it would be a good idea? How about a story about KB and RC as professional bank robbers? How about we find out that KB is such a good detective b/c we discover (gasp) she's psychic? How about Martha surprises her son and Kate by showing up with her acting troupe at the precinct and perform something... anyone want to collaberate?**


End file.
